Jabberjay [The Hunger Games]

Chapter Two

My mothers emotions continue to spiral out of control, and I am speechless. What does she mean I can't volunteer? I have practically been training my whole life to volunteer. There are so many things that don't feel right about this conversation, and one of them is that my father isn't a part of it.

"Sit, sit," I respond, gently guiding her by her forearm to my bed. I take a seat beside her, and then turn so that I can see her face. I am not sure what to say, so in the meantime, I brush her hair back out of her eyes with my fingers. She is still worked up but not as bad as she was when she originally came into my room. Once she has completely calmed down and began to breathe in normal increments, I begin to speak.

"Why don't you want me to volunteer, Mom?" I calmly ask, rubbing my thumb across the side of her hand that I have found myself holding. She takes a few moments to gather her thoughts, or at least that's what I think she is doing.

"That arena- It's-It's- dangerous, you can't. You can't.." She spits out, starting to get upset again. All of that calming down for nothing, because she couldn't even get one sentence out without going back to the hyperventilating. She stands up and starts to cover her face with both of her hands, "You can't! You just can't! Please, no. You're going to die! I know you are, you're not ready!"

I feel a pit in my stomach, wondering what to think of everything. There is something about hearing my mother say that I am going to die that makes it set in. I really could die. In fact, there is only a 1/24 shot at me living, but I thought everyone understood that and was okay with the odds. I have a blank face, finding a place on the floor to stare at, holding that stance. My mind is boggled with all the different possibilities of death in the arena, and for a moment I begin to see where my mother is coming from. It takes my father barging into the room to snap me out of whatever trance I was in.

"What in the hell is going on?" He blurts out, with hand motions. He walks over to me and my mother and then gives her a hug, I can tell it's a firm one.

"She doesn't want me to volunteer," I say, filling my dad in. I know he is not going to approve as he has been the main reason I even got involved in training. I had originally just wanted to go to the standard school and take basic academics, but he was the one who swayed me to the AOW. He is the one who took me to The Fray growing up. He has always been the one.

"Are you being serious, Marcelina?" He turns to her, with an appalled look on his face. He huffs, "You can not say things like that, are you insane?"

He starts to lecture her, and this does not help because she starts to get even louder. She yells about how I could die, and how a girl my size has no chance against someone like Martial Marx. I roll my eyes because Martial is one of my peers at the Academy of Warriors and ever since Recor left, he has risen from the ashes and became the golden boy of District Two. He is tall, dark, handsome, and extremely good with his words even though they have never phased me. All the boys want to be his friend, and all the girls want to be his newest one and only. Not me, though.

The back and forth between my parents continue to unfold as I stand back watching. I'm not listening though. My mind is too fixated on the fact that my mother has a very valid point. I don't have to go into the Hunger Games. I could stay in the district and continue to train and eventually become a professor at the AOW. None of this has to be this way, at all.

My parents are both looking at me almost as if they are waiting for a response.

"Carmen?" My dad spits out, his anger at the situation can easily be heard in his tone.

"I'm sorry, what?" I ask, getting pulled out of my thoughts and into reality.

With a tone just as serious as before, he asks, "You want to play, right?"